


Only You Can Cool My Desire (I'm on Fire)

by mlbee



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Slow Dancing, very little angst and mostly just a nice night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:57:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mlbee/pseuds/mlbee
Summary: Isak has a hard time with his dad, and Even is too full of love to let Isak be sad.





	Only You Can Cool My Desire (I'm on Fire)

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on Fire" and thought about Evak so this came out of it. This is my first ever attempt at fan fiction so I'm really nervous!

It was quiet in their apartment. It was soft. The way Even liked it. The only way it felt like home in Isak’s absence.

Bathed in yellow light from the table lamp in the corner, Even stretched, restless, sketching. Pulling visions out of his head and onto the page in front of him. Nights like tonight are the ones Even always wants to see in films. Moments like this where the lighting is just right, rain pattering softly against the window, complementing the music coming from his speaker, a perfect soundtrack to life. Even always wants to capture with perfect clarity, everyday life, and the art of it. The beauty of humanity, and all it’s mundane moments. Moments so perfectly human they shouldn’t be anything special. But they were. It always was with Isak.

His pencil stilled. Isak.

Even couldn’t believe he was real sometimes. Couldn’t understand how someone, who had gone through what Isak had, could still have so much love in their heart. And even more so, how someone--Even--could be lucky enough to be the recipient of that love.

And it’s nights like this that Even is particularly thankful for Isak, and all his love. When his mind is alight, one idea sparking and quickly catching, spreading like wildfire to the rest of his brain. A mess of thoughts, jumping, racing back and forth in his head spinning webs of chaos. Normal chaos sure, but it’s still messy. But even when his mind is a jumble of thoughts with no clear pattern, there are brief moments of calm. Peace. And Even is thankful for the home they crafted together. Because it feels safe. Cosy. Full. Even when missing an integral part.

The catch of a key in the lock, the twisting of a knob, snapped Even out of his reverie.

Isak hurried in, slamming the door behind him. An echo in the quiet room. He must have sensed it, cringing at the sound and pressing himself against the door and closing his eyes. He sighs gently.

Even let a moment pass, taking in everything. The way the light reflects off Isak’s rain soaked hair, a crown of golden curls cascading wildly across his forehead. The forehead so deeply creased, shoulders tight, and fists clasped tightly against his side, keys pressing deep indentations into the palms of his hands. Hands that are so gentle, so caring, around Even now wrapped so tightly together there was no way Isak wasn’t in pain.  

“Isak?” he asked, softly.

Isak started, opening his eyes to peer at Even, who was looking back so earnestly, with such concern that Isak couldn’t help but soften.

Even knew the answer, lying behind Isak’s tired eyes, but he dared to ask anyway, “How did it go?”

Isak scoffed, pushing himself off the door, throwing his keys on the counter and ridding himself of any softness he had left.

“How did it go?” he asked, moving into the room, angrily stripping off his wet jacket.  “How do you think it went?”

“That bad huh?” Even asks, abandoning his sketch and turning his full attention on Isak, who scoffs again.

“You know, I don’t even know why I bother with him anymore,” he says, kicking off his shoes. He trips over them, and the crevices in his forehead deepen. Isak kicks them, and they bounce hard against the wall. “He nags and nags and nags for me to spend time with him, and no matter what, everytime I cave in and see him it’s a mistake” Isak says, pacing. “He doesn’t--you know he always acts like he wants to know what I’m doing, what’s going on in my life, and--and I try to tell him and he just--he barely acknowledges it. He hardly looks at me when I see him, I don’t think he even sees me as a person half the time, let alone his only son.”

And now Even gets angry. Because this happens a lot. And he knows it does, and that it will probably keep happening. But he just doesn’t understand how that could be. It’s incomprehensible how someone could look at Isak, and not see one of the most impressive people in the world. Sure he’s a grump half the time, and he can be petulant as shit, and he’ll out sass anyone in a ten mile radius, but he’s 18. Who isn’t like that at his age?  

No. What’s so unbelievable to Even is that someone, who has known Isak for his whole life, known him through the good, and through the bad, and the very very bad, can look at this boy, and not see the hope and the potential he has. This boy who, with the slightest prodding, will tell you about all the constellations in the sky and the distance it takes to reach them. Who can tell you all about the smallest aspects of an atom and why it’s so important for our very existence as human beings. Who will open up his arms and protect the ones he cares about more than he takes care of himself. How can anyone see this boy, flaws and all, and not want to give him the world? Because Isak is so deserving. He just doesn’t realize it.

“Hey,” Even says quietly, interrupting Isak who is grumbling to himself in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers, aggressively--and sloppily--folding his jeans. “Can I play you a song?”

“Now?” Isak asks, frown lines darkening his features. If he frowns any more tonight he’s going to sprain his face. “Did you not hear anything I just said? I’m really not in the mood and I just want to go to sleep.”

“Please? I think it will help.”

Isak sighs, relenting to Even’s earnest gaze, “Okay, I guess.”

Even moves to his phone, and turns up the volume, loud enough to hear the lyrics clearly, but low enough to maintain whatever calm atmosphere was left. Isak remains speculative, clearly not picking up on the song. Soon, Bruce Springsteen’s raspy voice makes its way to Isak’s ears.

_Hey little girl is your daddy home_ _  
_ _Did he go away and leave you all alone_

“Seriously Even? You thought this would help”

“Shh. Just listen,” Even says moving to him, placing his hands on Isak’s waist, thumbs finding their way to the perfect indents of his hips. His lips brush Isak’s forehead as he sings.

_Tell me now baby is he good to you_   
_Can he do to you the things that I do, oh no_   
_I can take you higher  
I’m on fire. _

Isak become pliant in Even’s hands. Hands that move hips and lips that trace their way down Isak’s face, caressing his ear.

_Sometimes it's like someone took a knife baby_   
_Edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley  
Through the middle of my soul_

Isak’s hands snake their way up Even’s torso, nestling in his hair. Even’s hands wind themselves in Isak’s t-shirt, gripping Isak’s hips tighter, thumbs stroking the soft flesh below.

_At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet_   
_And a freight train running through the_   
_Middle of my head_   
_Only you can cool my desire  
I'm on fire_

Isak gasps as Even sings the last five lines fervently in his ear. They stay like that, swaying, as the final bars of the song fade out. Bodies plastered together, holding each other as tightly as if they were the last two people on earth.

“This song has always reminded me of you.” Even’s lips brush against Isak’s ear again, voice hardly above a whisper. “Because no matter what happens, or what has happened or what will happen, you are so important. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe on nights like this, when everything seems like it’s against you. But I promise, okay?”

Isak doesn’t say anything. Only his hands tighten, knotting themselves further in Even’s hair.

“You keep me grounded,” Even continues. “When my head is so wild it feels like I’m going to explode, you’re there for me. You’re there for me when I can’t get out of bed for days. You’re there for me when everything goes great. You’re the sassiest, smartest, grumpiest boy in the world.” Even can feel Isak’s eyes roll at that last comment, and he can’t help but laugh. “But you’re also the softest, most trustworthy, most lovable boy in this universe, and all of its parallels. No matter what anyone says, you are enough.”

Isak sniffles, and Even pulls his head back to look at him. Isak doesn’t untangle his hands from Even’s hair, doesn’t look him in the eye. Even presses their foreheads together as he wipes Isak’s eyes. Even kisses him once twice three times, on his eyes and cheek before finding his lips. It’s soft, but desperate. Grateful.

They stay like that, clutching each other tightly, not speaking, just listening to each other breathe, as the song fades out. And they stay like that, long after the music ends, and the only soundtrack left is the rain.

And these are what Even wants to keep, capture on film and save forever, tucking it away for the next time things get hard. When they hold each other, swaying gently in the low light of the apartment. These fractions of pure humanity, when everything falls apart, and the only thing you can do is live in the moment. These are the moments Even lives for.

\- - -

Awake, running a hand through Isak’s hair long after the boy had fallen asleep, Even looks down at him, tucked tightly into his favorite spot on Even’s right side. His face is concentrated, even in sleep, but no longer angry. The dark crevices that ran across his face earlier smoothed out, leaving only pursed lips behind. Even leans down, and kisses them. Isak shifts in his sleep, face lifting up, unconsciously asking for more. Even can’t help but chuckle at the wondrous boy he gets to call his own. As he leans down once again to kiss him, Even is thanks every star in the sky that the universe put them together.

**Author's Note:**

> TY for reading! If you leave any comments please be nice. I'm on tumblr at whenispeakicrossmyfingers, so come yell about skam with me!


End file.
